


on the roof of the red rocket

by gay_briel



Category: Fallout (Video Games), Fallout 4
Genre: But I do what I want, Canonical Character Death, Character Study, Emotional Baggage, Hurt/Comfort, Loss, M/M, Original Character Death(s), Smoking, but are greatly loved, hancock and dogmeat are only mentioned in passing, not entirely canon compliant, this is a shameless character study of my own original character tbh
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-12
Updated: 2018-12-12
Packaged: 2019-09-16 22:07:34
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,182
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16962378
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gay_briel/pseuds/gay_briel
Summary: Mac turns his head and considers him carefully, eyes searching over his face and expression as neutral as he can keep it. Raf shifts a little under the scrutiny, but doesn’t drop his smile. He takes another sip, and Mac’s eyes follow the movement and remain on his lips. “Do you miss it?”He could mean the cigarettes, and maybe he’s leaving Raf the kindness of a choice of answer, but he knows that’s not what Mac is asking. He purses his lips, contemplating for a moment, before shaking his head.“No, I don’t think so"





	on the roof of the red rocket

The boards creak softly as Raf makes his way up the makeshift stairs. The night sky is soft and sparkling around him, peaceful in a way that contrasts deeply with the true reality of the commonwealth he had come to know. He pulls a carton of cigarettes from the breast pocket of his leathers, tapping one out as his boots thump when he steps up onto the tin roof. 

Red Rocket had never meant to be somewhere he would call home, but somehow the little settlement that had gathered here was the closest thing he had found to it since Nora. While there were countless settlements that now welcomed him with open arms, after long and hard jobs he always found himself back here.

Raf twirls the cigarette between his fingers, inspecting it closely. There’s a gold-plated lighter tucked into the carton, which he had put there without even a thought, but the choice rings through him now. It would be nothing for him to press it to his lips and light it.

“Think if you glare at it hard enough it’ll light itself?”

The voice wraps around him, warm and painted with humour, and Raf looks up. MacCready is leaning up against the back of the rusted ‘rocket’ sign, a wry smile on his lips and eyes fond. His legs are crossed over at the ankles, and he’s nursing a tin cup filled with a steaming drink Raf is sure is laced with some sort of liquor. Raf matches his smile, walking up and leaning against the sign next to him. He’s close enough for their arms to be pressed together, sharing warmth, and if Mac asks he will blame it on the cold biting air of night. Mac doesn’t ask.

“I’m a little over 200 years clean of these now,” He replaces the cigarette back into it’s carton and tucks it into his pocket, before reaching across and plucking the drink gently from Mac’s hands. He drinks deeply, letting the warmth sink into his bones and the liquor buzz through him. “I quit the day before the bombs dropped, can you believe it?”

Mac turns his head and considers him carefully, eyes searching over his face and expression as neutral as he can keep it. Raf shifts a little under the scrutiny, but doesn’t drop his smile. He takes another sip, and Mac’s eyes follow the movement and remain on his lips. “Do you miss it?”

He could mean the cigarettes, and maybe he’s leaving Raf the kindness of a choice of answer, but he knows that’s not what Mac is asking. He purses his lips, contemplating for a moment, before shaking his head. “No, I don’t think so. Not really. It’s… it’s different now, then it was back then.”

MacCready nods sagely. He leans across into Raf’s space, fingers deftly reaching in to his breast pocket and plucking the carton out again. He pulls one free and lights it, flame flickering across his face enticingly, before he replaces the carton back into Raf’s pocket. His fingers linger a moment, before he leans back out of Raf’s space. He takes a deep drag, eyes still on Raf’s mouth, then turns his entire face skyward as he exhales. The smoke swirls up towards the bright stars, and Raf knows he’s waiting for more. Raf shifts, leaning across his left side so he is facing Mac completely.

“It’s like…. even with all of the bad shit that goes on here, people are still helping each other, you know? Everywhere you go there’s these little communities… survivors… if you’re capable of lending a hand, you’re more or less accepted. Sanctuary before was never really like that for me.”

Mac leans back further, his head tilted upwards and pressed against cool metal. His eyes skim sideways to Raf, and ash drops from the end of his stolen cigarette onto the ground.

“What was it like for you?”

His voice is soft and gravelly, giving away nothing past a baseline curiosity. Raf knows that if he wanted to he could back out, and Mac wouldn’t take offence. He doesn’t want to though, so he lets the words tumble from his mouth.

“It was… cold. Lonely. Everyone had everything they needed, so they didn’t…” he huffs out a breath, frustrated. “They just didn’t give a fuck. About anything. About each other. You could be drowning and they… they’d push you further down without even noticing they were doing it. It was suffocating.”

Mac’s expression doesn’t change, but his eyes stay on Raf’s. Raf can feel just the lightest brush of fingers against his side, so light that it could be mistaken for accidental.

“Nora?” Mac asks, cigarette dangling forgotten from his fingers. The question wraps around them both in the cold air, suffocating. For a moment they are both silent, the only sound to be heard is their combined breathing and the distant, tinny crackle of the radio downstairs. Raf sighs.

“She was different. She would have loved this place, I think.” He takes another sip of Mac’s drink, letting it sit in his mouth for a moment as a distraction. Mac waits patiently, remembering his cigarette and taking a small drag. “We weren’t… it wasn’t what everyone thought. They didn’t… people like us weren’t…”

The fingers at his side press purposefully now, a steady and grounding presence. Raf takes a shaky breath in, eyes closing, before he continues. If he’s going to give this to Mac, he can’t bear to see pity in his eyes.

“Nora was my best friend. She was bright and sharp and deserved so much more than Sanctuary. She saved me, in more ways than I could even list, and I loved her. But it was never like that. We were married because that was the easiest way that we could both have somewhere safe to go. We gave each other freedom in a place where restriction was all we had known.”

Raf hears a shift, the creaking of metal in front of him as Mac moves, and the fingers against his side move in circles, comforting and intentional. Raf keeps his eyes closed and lets himself pretend that it’s okay.

“She had a gal, a beautiful young thing who worked down at the store. Her name was Ally, and she was lovely. I don’t think I’ll ever meet anyone who was as kind as her. She was the only other person in Sanctuary that I… that was safe. I don’t… Allycat would have died at the first drop. Nora was quiet the whole way to the vault. Everyone else was so scared but she was already mourning. She knew.”

Raf pauses a moment, and he can hear MacCready’s steady intake of breath, feel it against his face. Something drops quietly to the floor, and Raf hears the familiar sound of a boot scuffing. The cigarette hisses as it’s pressed into cold tin. The hand drifts up to his face, skimming his cheek, the ghost of a touch, before dropping down again.

“There was no one else you miss?”

Raf feels his face drop into a pained expression, and he tries to school it back unsuccessfully. It’s hard to scoop back up what has been spilled. He shakes his head, a slight and tiny movement.

“I…,” his voice cracks a little, and he clears his throat, but it doesn’t make much of a difference as he speaks again. “I wasn’t… it… Nora was really lucky, and I… I tried I really did but… I. I wasn’t.. Sanctuary wasn’t kind or easy like our Allycat. The.. the men there didn’t… I wasn’t… I wanted more than they were willing to give.”

Raf turns, leaning his back against the sign again. He tilts his head up to the sky and opens his eyes, not daring to glance in Mac’s direction, terrified of what he will find there. He finds comfort in the stars, ignorant to his existence.

“They took what they needed, but I was never what they wanted, and I wanted too much. I wanted… god.. I wanted what Nora found. I wanted to be happy. Was it really too much Mac? Too much for me to ask just to not want to hurt anymore?”

Raf hears a huff next to him and winces, closing his eyes again. He holds his breath, not daring to even move for what was bound to happen next, but Robert MacCready always seemed to find new ways to surprise him.

“Fuck Sanctuary,” Raf’s eyes open in surprise, and he can’t help but turn at the anger in Mac’s voice. His eyes are blazing as they look directly into Raf’s. “Fuck that shitty little town, and fuck anyone in it who ever made you feel like you didn’t deserve to be loved.”

Raf feels the shock course through him, can feel himself shaking. He looks back up to the sky. He knows Mac really means it too, words so intentional and uncensored. He takes another shaky but deep drink from his cup, and suddenly it’s empty. It clatters to the ground, and Raf can’t even remember letting it slip. Something about that must change something in Mac, and Raf hears his breathing start to slow. When Mac speaks again, it’s quiet and tentative.

“What about the kid?”

Raf focuses on the question, let’s everything else slip away, and silently thanks Mac for giving him an out, in his own prying way. A distraction.

“Shaun… he… his parents weren’t locals. Died in a car accident just outside of town. Nora she… she needed to help. She couldn’t help it, it was her way. And god help anyone who refused help from her. Allycat adored him too. And I… I was part of the farce. The ‘doting father’ to her ‘loving mother’. Shaun was always theirs more than mine, but now… he’s the last thing I have of Nora.” Raf breathes out a bitter laugh, his cheeks wet. “God, Mac. She clung to him so hard. She was so fucking scared, more scared than I’ve ever seen her before in my life. The strongest person I ever knew, and she died in fear. Now everyone talks about me like I’m this  _ amazing  _ father, travelling the wastelands to find his son, but the truth is he was never mine to begin with. I’m just an old man who should be dead, following the rumours of a ghost.”

Silence stretches between them once again. Raf can feel Mac’s eyes burning into him, but he keeps his skyward. Beneath them, he can hear Hancock saying something muffled and distant, and dogmeat barking playfully in response. The tinny radio switches to a new song, Travis’ nervous muttering pathing it’s way. After a few minutes, he hears the radio switch off, and the night gets a little darker as the lights are flicked off downstairs. The only sound left is the humming of the generator on the other side of the lot.

Raf hears Mac move, and closes his eyes again, waiting and counting the footfalls as he starts to leave. One… two… three… … … and then nothing. He frowns, but then feels an impossibly warm and callous hand cup his cheek. He presses into the touch, tilting downwards to meet it, and his face breaks. He feels Mac move closer, and then lips brushing his cheek as he speaks.

“I never thought I’d ever be grateful for the nukes that tore this god forsaken place to bits, but how can I not be when they lead you to me.” His voice is barely above a whisper, and the fingers of Mac’s free hand tangle with his own. He squeezes them gently, but still doesn’t dare open his eyes. “I’ve got your back Raf, always, and this won’t change that.”

He strokes Raf’s cheek intently and hesitates, giving him a moment, a warning, and a way out if he needs it. Instead, Raf’s free hand winds it’s way around Mac’s waist.

When rough, chapped lips press against his, Raf gasps, his first true breath since leaving the vault. He clings to Mac desperately, pulling him as close as possible and letting himself drown. Mac becomes his anchor, steady and strong against Raf’s desperate tide, but when they finally part, Mac is gasping for air. He presses his forehead to Raf’s shoulder, warm breath dusting his collarbone as he catches his breath.

Shaking, Raf finally lets his eyes slide open. Mac tilts his gaze up to meet Raf’s, eyes warm and fond. He’s smiling, and he huffs out a breathless laugh that Raf can’t help but catch. Raf winds his other arm around Mac’s waist and pulls him in fully, pressing a soft kiss into his hair.

“Thank you,” He whispers, but is just makes Mac huff out another laugh. He reaches his arms up and winds them around Raf’s neck, eyes twinkling.

“You sure are something,  _ sole survivor _ ,” he teases.

Raf hums contentedly in response, closing his eyes once more. He lets it all settle into his bones, that this time, everything will be okay.

**Author's Note:**

> i adore Maccready and i adore Raf and i'm sorry for this mac fic that's just 2000 words of me talking about my own damn character. thanks to Jessie and Rune for all of the encouragement and for reading over it and convincing me that i'm NOT as bad at writing as i thought i was. 
> 
> find me on twitter @ ekareens and ask me to tweet pictures of my boy Raf!


End file.
